The claw never touched my skin.
It stopped a hair away from my cheek, close enough that I felt the heat of it. I could see my own reflection in the black curve. My eyes were huge, lips parted, chest rising fast.
He held it there.
One second. Two. Ten.
Then he lowered his hand.
"Turn around," he said, voice rougher than I had ever heard it.
I turned.
I felt him move behind me. Not touching, but so close the fur on his chest brushed my bare back. His breath stirred the hair at my nape.
"You smell like the library," he growled against my ear.
My heart stopped.
He knew.
He had been there. He had heard everything.
His tail slid around my waist, slow and heavy. The barb at the end rested just above my belly button, a gentle threat.
"You touched yourself while thinking of me."
It was not a question.
I could not speak. I nodded once.
"Show me."
I swallowed. "What?"
"Show me exactly how you did it."
His tail tightened a little, pulling me back until I felt the hard line of him against my lower back. Huge. Hot even through whatever he wore.
I was shaking again, but not from fear.
My hand moved without me telling it to. Down my stomach. Between my legs. I was already wet again. Soaked.
He made a low sound when my fingers slid over myself.
"Slower," he said.
I went slower.
His tail loosened from my waist and slipped lower. The thick length of it pushed between my thighs from behind. Not inside, just resting there, pressing up against where my fingers worked.
I gasped.
"Keep going."
I rubbed circles the way I had in the library. My legs shook. The fur on his tail was soft and rough at once. Every small shift sent sparks up my spine.
He leaned closer. His muzzle brushed my ear.
"Tell me what you saw in that book."
I tried to answer. My voice cracked.
"Tell me, Belle."
"You," I whispered. "You holding a woman against the wall. You on your back while she rode you. Your tail around her throat."
A growl rumbled through his chest and into my bones.
"Which picture made you come?"
"The one with your claws on her hips."
His tail moved. The tip slid along my folds, slow and deliberate, spreading wetness.
I whimpered.
"You want my claws there?"
"Yes."
He made me wait.
Then one clawed hand settled on my hip, light as a promise. The tips pressed just enough to remind me how sharp they were.
I moved faster. I could not help it.
He stopped me with a single word.
"No."
His tail pulled my hand away. I cried out at the loss.
"Not yet."
He turned me to face him.
I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. They burned gold, pupils blown wide.
He lifted me without warning. My back met the wall beside the fireplace. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.
He was fully clothed in some dark fabric, but I felt everything. The size of him. The heat.
His tail curled around my thigh and spread me open.
"Look at me," he said.
I looked.
The tip of his tail traced me once. Twice. Then pushed inside.
I gasped at the stretch. It was thick near the base, ridged, warm. Not cold like metal toys I had read about. Alive.
He watched my face while he slid deeper.
"Too much?" he asked.
I shook my head.
He went deeper anyway.
When I was full, he stopped. His clawed thumb brushed my lower lip.
"Breathe."
I sucked in air.
Then he started to move.
Slow thrusts with his tail. In and out. The ridges dragged against places inside me I did not know existed.
His voice dropped to something darker.
"Tu es à moi, Belle."
(You are mine, Belle.)
I did not know the words, but I felt them in my blood.
His free hand slid between us. One claw circled where I needed it most, never quite touching.
"Please," I begged.
"Please what?"
"Touch me."
He did.
One slow circle. Another.
I was close already. So close.
He stopped again.
I sobbed.
"Not yet."
He fucked me with his tail, slow and steady, while his thumb teased and stopped, teased and stopped.
I lost track of how many times he brought me to the edge and pulled me back.
Tears ran down my cheeks.
"Léandre," I cried. "Please, I can't."
He growled my name like a prayer.
"Beg in my language."
I did not know how.
He leaned close, muzzle against my throat, and spoke against my skin.
"Dis: s'il te plaît, mon prince."
(Say: please, my prince.)
I repeated it, broken and desperate.
"S'il te plaît, mon prince."
(Please, my prince.)
The claw pressed hard.
I came apart.
Pleasure crashed over me so strong my vision went white. My whole body shook. I heard myself scream his name.
His tail kept moving through it, drawing it out until I was boneless.
When it finally stopped, he held me against the wall with one arm. His tail slid out slow.
I felt empty. Wrecked. Perfect.
He carried me to the bed and laid me down.
I could barely keep my eyes open.
He brushed hair from my face with surprising gentleness.
"Sleep, Belle."
I wanted to ask when he would take me fully. When I would feel all of him.
But my body was too heavy.
Just before sleep took me, I felt something cold close around my throat.
Like a collar.
But I was too sleepy to care.
His voice was soft now.
"Tomorrow, ma petite rose. Tomorrow you wear only this."
The door closed.
I was already asleep, dreaming of gold eyes and claws and the word mine.